Love Hurts (Or; Men without Shirts)
by Tumbleweed
Summary: Dialogue heavy attempt at humor. Pretty straightforward: A few members of the Guilty Gear Cast sit around, drink, and talk about women. It's a wonder what the mind will cook up when deprived of sleep.


DISCLAIMER: No, Guilty Gear isn't mine, so I won't be expecting to make any cash off of this. Of course, if I _was responsible for Guilty Gear, it'd certainly be a different game, with less long-haired Fangirl magnets and more robots. And maybe some zombies. Anyway, here's a little 'fic, created from equal parts road trip boredom and sleep depravation. I'd almost venture to call it my follow up to 'Keep it Gay', except for the fact that this is just Humor, not scathing satire. And for all the hardcore GG fans out there, I do know that one particular 'match' I make at the end is rather odd (especially considering the alleged affinity towards a certain Frog that one of those characters has). However, I opted to overlook this for the sake of humor. In any case, read on!_

***

            A politician, a pirate, and a partisan sat around a table towards the back of the unnamed bar, their very presence daring aspiring comedians to craft a joke about them. The appearance unlikely trio was bound to attract attention, while the fame of each apparent celebrity was bound to hold it. Thankfully, the drinking establishment was relatively empty. They drank and laughed as any gathering of free-spirited males would, the sound of their voices filling the mostly vacant drinking establishment. Their conversation, as could be expected from such a gathering, brought up the topic of the fairer sex. 

            With a devilish grin, the pirate- a blonde man garbed in black and gold -enthralled his companions with a story of one particularly amorous adventure involving a jewel heist, a broken elevator, and a shapely redheaded secretary who chose an odd night to work overtime. "-So I said, why don't we get out of these wet clothes and into a dry martini?"

            "Wow." Rumbled the giant. The huge man dominated one side of the table, looking cartoonishly disproportionate in comparison to everything about him. No less than an entire keg of lager served as his beverage, cradled in a pawlike, gauntleted hand. 

            The third member of the trio, a young Japanese man in traditional oriental garb, chuckled at this, pushing his glasses further up his nose with a slim finger. "What happened after that, John?"

            John (or Johnny, as the pirate was often called) paused at this question, his confident facade breaking with the audible sound of breaking glass. (In truth, the bartender just so happened to drop a glass at the very moment, lending an impromptu sound effect to Johnny's dismay. However, this had nothing to do with the conversation in question.) "I don't kiss and tell." Johnny shot back after regaining his composure.

            "Yes you do." said the giant in his vibration-inducing bass voice.

            "Shut up, Potemkin." Johnny retorted, taking a swig of his drink.

            At this interchange, the bespectacled third man only laughed further. "What, was the great Sky Pirate King turned down by a lowly secretary?"

            Johnny bristled further, "No." 

            "Then what?" Potemkin gently inquired, sipping from his keg as easily as a smaller man would drink from a 12 oz can. 

            "Then May showed up." These four words were more than enough explanation, eliciting "Ahhhhs" of understanding from Potemkin and the Japanese man. "She's a good kid, really- just a little prone to jealousy. At least she didn't start swinging that anchor of hers around." An exasperated sigh escaped his lips at this. Finally, he turned his attention over towards the shirtless Japanese man, again allowing his features to slip into a practiced smirk. "But enough about me- you ever get that samurai chick's number?"

            Anji was obviously not ready for this question, his dismayed expression doing quite a bit to show this. Surprise gave way to indignation as Anji glared a murderous glare at Johnny. "I'm insulted, pirate! Why do you always suggest that I'm moping after Baiken like a foolish schoolboy? Is it because the both of us are Japanese? I would think- no, I would _hope that a man such as yourself would not subscribe to such foolish logic. She's not my type, anyway. Too short. Too quiet. Too angry. Heck, she doesn't even have all of her limbs!"_

            "Shot down again, huh?" Johnny quipped. Potemkin remained silent- though grinning.

            "Like an Iraqi jet." Anji responded.

            "A what?" 

            "Nevermind. Historical refrence."

            "Oh."

            The giant grinned at these words, peering down towards the now-deflated Anji. "How bad was it this time?"

            "Better than before; three cracked ribs, fifteen stitches, a dislocated shoulder, and a minor concussion."

            "Sounds like she likes you" Said Johnny. Potemkin only emitted a low rumbling noise that could be construed as a chuckle. 

            "Only time will tell." Anji heaved a sigh, then pulled one of his fans from his sleeve. He flicked the unassuming weapon open with a snap of the wrist, then set about eyeing the device. "It's times like this that I wonder if these things are cursed. Maybe some sort of balance- sure, carry an immensely powerful weapon of magic- but it curses your love life in response."

            Johnny pushed the brim of his hat up so he could look Anji directly in the eye as he slapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, you're just saying that. What's a few concussions in the long run? Besides, we all have our…'off days'."

            Anji slipped his eyes down to the table before him, then back up to the pirate "I wouldn't be so sure about that- all the others outfitted with segments of OUTRAGE seem to be in the same predicament that I'm in."

            "Oh?" Potemkin said, proving somewhat curious. 

            "Yes." Anji continued, taking a grateful swallow of his drink. "Ky Kiske, for example. You don't see _him with any girls now, do you? He carries around the thunderseal- that's why."_

            The pirate shook his head, dismissing the thought "He doesn't count- he's all godly goody two-shoes and stuff. Hell, I even heard he was going to become a priest."

            Anji mused over this for a few moments, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Well, then what about Sol Badguy, then? You don't see women fawning over him, either."

            "Well, that's simple," Potemkin cut in, apparently eager to join into the conversation. "He's gay.  Haven't you ever heard him talking about wanting to be a queen?" Anji blinked at this, while Johnny gave Potemkin a look of equal parts confusion and utter disdain. "What?" the giant rumbled.

            "That's _Queen, Potemkin. Old 20th century band."_

            "….Oh." 

            "Besides, I think he has a thing for that one gothy chick."

            "Who?" 

            "Oh…I forget her name. Pretty hard to miss her, though. Black hair, black clothes, flat chest- kinda tall, pretty quiet?"  Johnny's vague description earned little more than puzzled looks from his drinking buddies. "Oh, you know- she carries a big red scythe?"

            "Johnny…that's Testament." Anji finally stated.

            "So?"

            "Testament's a man. Well…sortof. He's a gear, really."

            "You're kidding." Johnny leaned in closer, peering over the rims of his sunglasses at the politician. 

            "Not at all." 

            "Well … Damn."

            "Didn't you notice them fighting?"

            "Thought it was a domestic dispute."

            "A domestic dispute with edged weapons?"

            "Wouldn't have surprised me. I've seen worse."

            "You're also a nefarious pirate who flies around with a crew of teenagers with…issues." Potemkin noted.

            Johnny, taking offense to this, shot his glare up at the giant. "Who asked you, russkie? Besides, I'm just trying to help our academic friend here" he jerked a thumb over towards Anji, "get laid. It's not like YOU have any experience in the matter."

            At these words, Potemkin ponderously swung his gaze over towards the pirate. Involuntarily, muscles and tendons stiffened beneath his bronzed skin, stretching taut like high-tension cables. "Just what do you mean by that?" he rumbled, ominously. 

            "No offense or anything, buddy, but it's not like your renowned for your way with the fairer sex like, say, I am." No small degree of egotism slipped into Johnny's tone of voice, urged on by the alcohol content of his bloodstream.

            The giant grunted, pointing a gauntleted finger towards his drinking buddy as he began "Actually, I-" this impromptu monologue was cut short, however, as a shrill, far-too enthusiastic voice cut through the air with one strange word.

            "Schnookie!"

            The trio froze instinctively at the odd sound, honed senses snapping to alertness. In a matter of moments, a perky, brown-haired woman with a seemingly impossible hairstyle materialized next to Potemkin, embracing the side of his ribcage. The gesture was an odd one, considering that she couldn't get her arms around the massive man's torso, as hard as she tried. 

            "Err…I think you've all met Jam before." Potemkin murmured, almost blushing. Anji and Johnny merely looked on, surprise written clearly across their faces. Jam either didn't notice or politely ignored the gaping looks as she took her arms from around Potemkin's chest and set about to tugging futilely at his massive hand. "C'mon slowpoke! We'll be late for the show!" Potemkin nodded agreeably, then lumbered to his feet. A brief rummage in a pocket produced a bow tie- ludicrously small in comparison to the rest of his body. He slapped the small decoration onto his deactivated slave collar, affixing it there with a magnet. "What can I say?" he offered to his companions. "She makes good waffles." Potemkin then tromped out the door, Jam uselessly urging him to go faster than his usual gait. 

            A silence fell over the remaining two for an indeterminate period of time, finally broken by a tentative question by Anji: "Waffles? Isn't that a breakfast-"

            The pirate held up a finger, silencing the politician "Shut up and drink, Anji."

            And so they did. 


End file.
